


After All These Years

by afteriwake



Series: A Thousand Different Lives [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Dancing, F/M, First Dance, Happy Ending, Lonely Molly, Mentioned Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Molly Has A Crush, Mycroft Has a Crush, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, POV Molly, POV Molly Hooper, Sad Molly, Weddings, surprised Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Molly returns to the estate where she grew up in time for her Lordship’s youngest son's wedding, and on the day of the event finds herself feeling plain and alone and unloveable. But not everyone sees her that way...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stbartsmolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stbartsmolly/gifts).



> So this was chosen by **mymaincookies** on Tumblr to be one of the fics for my series when I started it, with the sentence " _'You look beautiful.'_ ” to be included and the AU to be Wed!lock. I don't know if this is _exactly_ what was wanted, but this is what came up. This ship was later picked by **stbartsmolly** to be one of the ones towards my 800th Sherlock fic. Hope you guys like it!

She had no idea why she'd let her mum talk her into coming to this wedding. Everyone looked so posh and glamorous, especially the lovely bride, dressed in a designer gown with gorgeous jewelry and a radiant smile. Molly looked down at the simple lavender dress she wore, with the scalloped lace edging at the bottom and the single strand of pearls around her neck and the lavender high heeled Mary Janes she wore. She felt so plain and so...dull.

Her mum came over and nudged her with her elbow. “Go mingle, dear. It’s not every often you get an invitation to his Lordship’s wedding.”

Molly nodding before her mother scuttled off. She’d been the personal assistant to Lady Holmes for Molly's entire life, and Molly had grown up with the Holmes brothers until she’d gone off to uni. She hadn’t come back home often, and hadn’t caught a glimpse of either of them when she was there. Oh, she’d heard stories; Mycroft was a member of Parliament, making a name for himself there, and Sherlock was a bit of a wild canon, a brilliant man passing the time as a private investigator of some sort but doing so for those who only had “interesting” cases and occasionally consulting for the Yard. She, herself, had gone abroad, gone to the States, and worked for a coroner’s office in New York. It wasn’t exactly the type of profession brought up in polite company, but it was interesting work and she enjoyed it.

And then she’d gotten the email from her mum that her father was ill and he needed care, and she’d dropped everything and rushed home, only to find herself smack dab in the middle of wedding preparations. Sherlock Holmes was settling down with the rather infamous Irene Adler. She had no clue the hows or whys of their relationship, but they seemed happy and, when she saw them alone together, genuinely in love. She wished them nothing but the best. But seeing them reminded her that she was nothing but alone in this world when it came to the field of romance.

She picked up a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip. Oh, it was the good stuff. She should have known the Holmes’s would spare no expense. She was about to take a second sip when she heard a throat clear behind her. She turned quickly, her hair fanning out behind her slightly, and found herself looking up at a familiar figure with wide eyes. “Molly,” she heard Mycroft say quietly.

She felt herself warm at the cheeks slightly, not sure if it was the champagne or the nickname. Aside from her parents, Mycroft had been the only other person to call her Molly. She was Margaret to everyone else. She gave him a warm smile. “Mycroft. You look quite well.”

“You look beautiful,” he said, and she felt the warmth spread from the apples of her cheeks, a little further. To be honest, while Sherlock was the more classically handsome of the two brothers, she had always rather preferred Mycroft, both in looks and company. He always made time for her, always listened to her, and even though he was not classically handsome, there was an attractiveness to his features she had found that she thought of even as years passed.

Maybe he had done the same?

“Thank you,” she said, ducking her head slightly.

“Perhaps I could have a dance?” he asked, gesturing to the floor of the ballroom, where there were couples moving along the floor to a rather slow paced song.

“You want to dance? With me?” she asked, more surprised than she had realized she would be. There had to be any number of women wanting to go after him. Yes, Sherlock was off the market, but he was the second son. He wasn’t going to inherit the title or the estate. That was all going to go to Mycroft anyway. Why wasn’t he fending women off with a stick?

Why did he want to dance with _her_?

“I have wanted to since I was nineteen years old, and you were outside on the terrace during an event that my parents were having that you had been allowed to attend,” he said. “You had on a cream dress that my mother had let you borrow, and your hair was up in a bun, but a few tendrils had escaped at the nape of your neck. You were swaying in time to the music and I had thought to ask but my brother came out and enticed you to come back inside.”

Her mouth formed a small O shape as she searched back to that night. She had to have been young. Fifteen, perhaps? There wasn’t much difference age wise between them, though he looked older. She was older than Sherlock, after all. And oh, she would have been at just the right age then that she would have let him sweep her into his arms and dance the night away with her, heedless f the rest of the world. Their lives might have been very different then. Maybe better, maybe worse.

But now...today they could have their dance they should have had all those years ago.

She set her glass of champagne on a nearby table and then set her hand on his arm. “I would love to have a dance with you, Mycroft,” she said, giving him the warmest smile she could, and for a moment she got a look of surprise that she knew must have rivaled her own only moments before, but then it melted away, becoming a look of utter satisfaction as he led her to the floor. He set his hands on her waist as she stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his neck, and when they began to move in time with the music she felt a sense of rightness.

Perhaps going home hadn’t been a bad decision after all...


End file.
